


Spiced Tea

by Rosehip



Series: Ceilidh Tabris saves the Damn World [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life, Tea, Wynne means well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21572005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosehip/pseuds/Rosehip
Summary: The Circle is a full day behind them. Wynne observes her weird, new traveling companions. Opinions are forming.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Tabris
Series: Ceilidh Tabris saves the Damn World [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/796926
Comments: 15
Kudos: 28





	Spiced Tea

Wynne settled herself as near the fire as she could without catching herself ablaze. The Circle stood a full day's travel behind them. She felt a little better than she had. The Warden girl had insisted that they spend the night at the Spoiled Princess the night before, and that they take their time traveling today. Wynne hated the idea that this might be due to her age and presumed frailty. After months of poor rest, little food, and terrible fear, however, she didn't want to complain.

She surveyed her new companions. She hadn't really met them all properly, or spent much time with most of them yet. Most remained behind to protect the children during the Warden's rescue mission, and today several of them had ranged ahead or hunted. It had kept opportunities to get to know them each to a minimum.

The sweet Orlesian girl brought Wynne a cup of spiced tea with sugar. Wynne smiled her thanks, and held it gently in both hands. The warmth seeped into her fingers; almost too much but still welcome. The steam and scent wafted up around Wynne's face. It had never been quite this cold in the Circle Tower, but the tea had also never smelled this good or felt this much like mercy. She took a tentative sip. The cinnamon and cardamom tasted as good as they smelled. One wondered where this group had found it, and why they had bothered to carry such a luxury with them when they had all their gear and weapons to carry as well. _Ah well,_ Wynne thought. _I can hardly chide them about their priorities when I enjoy it so much._

She looked around at the group. The Orlesian, Leliana, had sat down near Wynne and begun to tune her lute. The elven Warden, Ceilidh, sat across the fire from Wynne on a rolled up bedroll. She laughed at a joke Wynne hadn't caught, and rested her hand absently on the shoulder of the Antivan elf. He sat wrapped in a cloak on the ground next to her. Actually, “next to” wasn't an apt description. The deadly patch of shadow and wicked laughter she thought she'd met in the circle tower transformed into a smiling young man, who wrapped himself around the Warden's legs like a cat who hasn't been fed, yet. Wynne doubted either of the elves were aware of the thousand signals they were sending out that nearly screamed  _Mine. This one is mine._ If they'd been mages, one of them would have been shipped off to another circle by now.

_Oh, dear,_ Wynne thought to herself.  _This... never ends well._ The girl was already pledged to something greater than another individual, and if Wynne understood correctly, the boy was as well. She sighed and sipped her tea before continuing her perusal of the camp.

The redheaded archer and the two elves were the only ones she'd fought beside, as yet. Alistair she'd met at Ostagar. For all that most of the mages grew nervous at the thought of a Warden-Templar, Wynne found him friendly and well-meaning. Now, he stood up to carry a dish of the soup Ceilidh Tabris had made to the Chasind apostate who kept her own fire. He hastily returned a short moment later, his cheeks red and with a tense set to his jawline. It must be difficult to get to know the other mage.

Wynne had never seen a Qunari before, or had a dog, so she couldn't say if it was unusual that a Qunari and a dog seemed to be having a philosophical discussion about the relative merits of assorted bladed weaponry. The giant noticed her attention and turned his gaze on her. He remained perfectly still, his eyes wary.

“I beg your pardon,” said Wynne. “Do I make you nervous?”

“An unbound mage is like a wildfire, as prone to consume itself as to devour all that surrounds it.”

“So, yes, then. If it helps, I promise not to set you on fire. In fact, I don't actually know how.”

“You may promise whatever you like, mage. But do you move the magic, or does it move you?”

“Eh...” Wynne shifted uncomfortably. That was... oddly perceptive. Perhaps it was a coincidence? What could he see with those strange, violet eyes?

“Hey, you never looked at Morrigan like that,” noted Alistair. Wynne could kiss the boy for his interruption. “Why start in on her?” he gestured in Wynne's direction.

“Perhaps you have a point, Warden,” agreed Sten. “I would do well to be wary of any who wield magic, even if they are yet children who should be in the care of the Tamassra for some years to come.”

“ _Ooooh,_ ” exclaimed Ceilidh. “I'm glad she's over there and might not have heard that.”

“She most certainly did not,” agreed her lover. “It remains a peaceful evening, does it not?”

“Right. New rule, given that whole 'unbound mage' thing. No involuntary binding of anyone who hasn't tried to kill you recently.”

The Antivan held up a finger. “I would ask you to elaborate...”

“And by recently I mean 'this week'. Fair?”

“Indeed, Warden. I appreciate it.” He shot a peculiar look at Alistair.

“Still not sorry,” replied the Templar.

“Also, to remind you all of an old rule,” added Ceilidh. “No trying to kill eachother.”

“I can't tell if you're joking or not, Warden,” Wynne said.

“I think I'm being funny,” replied the girl. “But I also mean it. Other rules include that neither Alistair nor Zevran is allowed to cook unsupervised. No putting dead animals in anyone's pack but your own. Disguises are to be worn in major cities or near Loghain's holdings; not that it always helps. If we're in an inn, always knock on doors using this pattern.” She demonstrated by tapping her thighs. “And before you ask, this has all come up.”

_The world depends on a campsite full of children,_ Wynne thought. _Squabbling, playful, and in some cases hormone-plagued children. It's a good thing I'm here._


End file.
